Who's your nanny?

Today I saved my Monkey from certain death.

Ok, it wasn't that dramatic but it was nice to see after I don't how many years of babysitting and CPR certifications and First Aid classes that I do in fact now how to employ proper technique.

We had a leisurely morning, and by "we" I mean T and I. We both slept in while E took care of breakfast. He had to rush out of here for work this morning but did that get us out of bed? Nope.

My excuse is that I worked late last night, and E knew that. He said he thought about sending R down to wake me but he didn't think that was fair.

T's excuse is that she is STILL sick and still pregnant and still can't take anything to make herself feel amazing like those of us that guzzled DayQuil for a week.

So he left her alone, too.

After he had gone we spent two hours getting the kids ready to go to the library. At first J didn't want to stay with us, but once we got there he didn't want to leave. He was in a diaper today because we are all tired of his poop.

Strangely enough, he had no accidents today.

We got to the library just after story time had ended but none of my kids care anyway. They played and picked out books and did their thing and everything was good except for the baby running out of the children's room every ten minutes so he could go push the button to open the automatic door.

He's. So. Bad.

We ate our lunch in the snack bar in the downstairs of the library, picked out some movies and went outside to play in the yard behind the building, overlooking a small river.

We met a photographer and chatted with him for a bit. The kids sat on the big stone overlook and watched birds and ducks while they ate their snacks, and then when their sugar stores and energy levels were replenished they performed their customary run around in circles on the lawn ritual.

I called T after R told me she had to go potty. It was well after Monkey's nap time and a trek back up to the building meant going home, not trekking back. They began shoving the rest of the snacks into their mouths and the baby stuffed in a few pieces of orange.

He's usually pretty good with oranges but I guess something went wrong because I heard him start choking.

I've only ever heard it being enacted on poorly funded instructional videos but I think any idiot knows what choking sounds like. I skipped the steps advised for strangers in public settings like asking, "Are you choking?" or "Can I help you?" and I just stuck my finger in his mouth and pulled the oranges out of his throat.

He took a breath and then promptly threw up on my hand, (which was still in front of him in case I needed to go back in) his coat and the stroller. R started yelling her disgust and J happily kept eating his granola bar. I gagged a little, made sure Monkey was breathing and started swiping at the puke with the paper towels I had prudently brought along.

All that came out was oranges, but still, it was a gag-worthy barf.

We got back up into the building and when I took the baby out of the stroller the whole thing toppled over but I had puke and a little girl who needed to pee to deal with. With left it there and went into the bathroom.

When we came back with empty bladders and vomit-free, a mom was picking up our things and her little girl was smiling and waving at R. The woman put all my stuff away and was SO nice I couldn't even believe it. We chatted very briefly and then I herded the troops out to meet T.

We went home and did nothing for the rest of the day. The kids and I built a gingerbread house that we've been meaning to make since Thanksgiving. J serenaded us all with his favorite U2 song of the week; Where the Streets Have No Name. He knows all the words and sometimes he picks up his guitar or sits at his little drums and "plays" while he sings it.

It's freaking cute.

Except for the part where I've been forced to have Bono stuck in my head for three days. That's not so cute.

Ah...my job is so hard.